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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27334141">Wolf's Pride</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/jasna/pseuds/jasna'>jasna</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Love Comes Home [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dragon Age: Inquisition</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon-Typical Violence, Drabbles, F/M, Post-Tresspasser, Swearing, The Game, glimpses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 11:08:43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,571</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27334141</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/jasna/pseuds/jasna</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Two can play this game. He does want to win, but there is a doubt hidden somewhere deep in his mind. </p><p>She doesn't have such limitations.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>F!Lavellan/Solas, solavellan - Relationship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Love Comes Home [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1995787</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Promise</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Continuation of <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/12456720/chapters/28347532">Lamb in Wolf's Clothing</a>.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She’s changed. </p><p>She let her hair grow enough to braid it into elaborate crown. She has a scar, crossing her lip. She carries herself differently. There’s more pride in her step, her shoulders and back are completely straight; her chin is higher. There’s regality in her now, regality that rarely showed before, not yet blossomed fully and unashamedly. She has a new staff, laced with something that looks like raw lyrium. </p><p>Her left arm is entirely covered in a sleeve and she has a glove on her Marked hand. It doesn’t help. The green is still visible through the fabric and soft leathers. And her arm trembles, just a little, but he notices anyway. </p><p>‘Solas.’ She says. There’s surprise in her voice, but underneath that, there’s something else. Softness, gentleness, <em>emotion</em> so deep it resonates with something within him. </p><p>‘Kerei.’ He answers, trying to keep the tremble out of his voice. He knew, of course, she’d come investigating the threat. It was only logical, knowing her. And yet, all his <em>preparation </em>didn’t actually make him ready to face her. Her, changed and even more beautiful than he remembers, proud and accomplished… and very, very sad. </p><p>That’s it. That’s the main difference. </p><p>She seems sad. Before, she had sparkles of laughter hidden in her eyes. Now, the sparkles are gone, and it nearly breaks his heart again. Her eyes are still big and brightly green, but a line around them, a pull of her brows tells tales of her struggles for the past two years. The inner light that was always present on her face is also gone and she looks like she’s been sick recently. </p><p>‘I suspect you have questions.’ He manages. </p><p>‘Just one, really.’ She says. Her voice is gentle and soft. ‘Why?’ </p><p>He tells her, without thinking. She listens. And she asks, as always, she <em>asks </em>and he <em>tells </em>her everything. The words just spill out of him in an unstoppable flow. Her face remains mostly blank. The only sign of her distress is her right hand, clutching her left elbow tighter and tighter with his every word. Her Marked hand does its usual twitch - fist, flex, fist, flick of the wrist, fist again - and it pains him to see that again. It means she’s hurting. Her hand hurts, and soon it will kill her. </p><p>When there’s nothing more to say and silence falls, she looks at him. </p><p>‘And you didn’t think to tell me all of this sooner?’ she asks. Her voice is small. Broken. </p><p>‘This was not your burden to bear.’ He releases a sigh. ‘What is the old Dalish curse? May the Dread Wolf take you?’ </p><p>‘And so he did…’ she says, a tiny, sad and ironic smile crossing her lips. They stare at each other for a second; her green eyes locked with his, and he feels a tightness in his throat, an ache he cannot pinpoint; he wishes to take back what he did to her and make her eyes sparkle again. He cannot, of course, and he’s surprised by the pain it causes him. </p><p>The Anchor explodes in a storm of green, flashing through the glove, and Kerei falls to her knees with a choked cry, clutching her left wrist. He cannot get to her fast enough; he wants to hold her, but he cannot, not right now, not ever, not after she <em> knows. </em> He barely has courage to touch her shoulder. </p><p>‘Solas.’ She chokes out. There are tears running down her face. ‘Please… can you make it <em>stop</em>?’  </p><p>He kneels at her side. His heart breaks for her. He’s never seen Kerei in this much pain, and he has witnessed a lot of her injuries, battle or otherwise. But she’s never broke down this hard before - on her knees, sobbing quietly and clutching her Marked hand so tight she nearly draws blood with her nails, even through the glove. She looks at him with so much hope in her eyes - truly believing he can make it better. Gently, he takes her hand and caresses her wrist. He can see poison running through her veins clear as day and he sighs. It’s too late to save her now.  </p><p>He kisses her fingers. They tremble under his lips. </p><p>‘The Mark will eventually kill you.’ He says as gently as he can. ‘Drawing you here gave me a chance to save you… at least for now.’ </p><p>Her head snaps up. There’s focus in her eyes, focus so intense he nearly doubles back. She heard the words he didn’t say out loud, the words that linger behind the “for now”. She always had a knack for listening to things unsaid. </p><p>‘<em>Solas, </em><em>var </em><em>lath </em><em>vir </em><em>suledin! </em>’ Kerei nearly hisses, as if her promise was a threat. He can’t help a sad smile. </p><p>‘I wish it could, <em>vhenan</em>.’ </p><p>The Anchor explodes once more. Kerei cries out again, her helpless tears fall on his hand. He leans forward, cupping her cheek; <em> one </em><em>last </em><em>time</em>, he thinks, <em>just </em><em>once, </em><em>please, </em><em>my </em><em>love, l</em><em>et </em><em>me </em><em>touch </em><em>you. </em> </p><p>Her lips tremble, but she returns the kiss with all the fire that he remembers so well. For a moment, he feels warm again. But he can also feel the sick energy of the Anchor burning through her arm, poisoning her entire bloodstream. There’s something he can do, but he has to ask. He has to give her <em>this </em>choice. </p><p>‘I can take it.’ He says against her lips. ‘But I’d have to take your arm with it.’ </p><p>‘Do it.’ She says immediately, without thinking. ‘You took my heart already. I can give you that as well.’ </p><p>‘I will never forget you.’  </p><p>‘I’ll make sure of it.’ </p><p>This is why he loves her. The fire within, keeping her going, <em>despite all that has happened</em>. He casts the spell and leaves, not looking back. For if he did, he would stay. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Decision</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>‘I find it very hard to care right now, so unless you know how to enter that fucking thing, do SHUT THE FUCK UP!’</p><p>‘Language, Dorian.’ Vivienne snorts gracefully. ‘I would imagine our dear Kerei would not appreciate you swearing.’</p><p>Dorian gives out a frustrated noise and turns to the Eluvian again. He tried everything he could think of and nothing worked. They just cannot get past the damned mirror. The sense of urgency doesn’t die down, though, so Dorian is sure Kerei needs his help. Perhaps she’s fighting and losing. Perhaps she’s injured. Perhaps something else happened, and Dorian has to put some effort into not thinking about that.</p><p>The Bull’s heavy hand falls on his shoulder.</p><p>‘She’s tough.’ The Qunari says. ‘She’ll get through.’</p><p>‘I sure hope so.’ Dorian grumbles. ‘I hate sitting around. Waiting.’</p><p>And this is the moment the Eluvian chooses to light up. Dorian yelps and jumps forward. Kerei stumbles on the threshold and nearly falls into his arms. Something is off about her, but Dorian is too happy to see her alive and too relieved to actually notice. He assaults her with questions, too hasty to really understand. She looks up to him. Her face is pale, but there’s a familiar gleam in her eyes.</p><p>‘I need to see a healer.’ She says. Her voice trembles. ‘Now, please. My arm.’</p><p>‘Dorian.’ The Bull kneels at his side. ‘Let me.’</p><p>Now Dorian notices. Her left arm - the Marked one, the one with the Anchor, the one which was causing her so much pain recently - is gone. The remaining bit, ending just above the elbow, is heavily burned. She smells lightly of burning flesh and Fire magic, a smell Dorian knows all too well. Vivienne says something, but Dorian doesn’t know what it is. Kerei allows the Bull to gently lift her in his arms. Vivienne picks up Kerei’s lyrium laced staff.</p><p>‘What happened?’ the Grand Enchantress asks as casually as if this was one of her salon meetings.</p><p>‘I found the agent of Fen’Harel.’ Kerei says. The Bull carries her gently, as steadily as is possible, but she still winces in pain from time to time. ‘Well, more accurately, I found Fen’Harel himself.’</p><p>‘Did he cut off your arm?’ Dorian asks. He shoves the fact of Kerei meeting an Elvhen god aside. Later. This is a matter to address later.</p><p>‘And in doing so, he saved my life.’ Kerei’s eyes flutter closed.</p><p>‘Stay up!’ The Bull shakes her gently, but she still cries out in pain, her eyes flying open. ‘Sorry, boss. But don’t fall asleep!’</p><p>Dorian and Vivienne try to keep Kerei awake, showering her with questions. But she’s weaker by the minute and soon, the Bull breaks into a jog. When they reach the Winter Palace, there are fresh tears of pain streaming down Kerei’s face. Cullen awaits them at the Eluvian. And as soon as they step out of it, the Commander yells out orders. Healers flock soon and Kerei is gently carried away.</p><p>Dorian threatens to electrocute anyone trying to keep him away. So they let him stay. He remains at Kerei’s side throughout the entire operation of cleaning up the remains of her arm and re-sewing it back securely. He holds her good hand and says a lot of silly, stupid things, even though she’s put to sleep by a healer mage. She needs three days to recover enough to attend the Exalted Council again. And when he helps her get dressed for that, she gives him a quick rundown of the story. But there’s more than she says, he can tell. </p><p>‘So what do you plan to do?’ he asks, rolling up her left sleeve. He barely has enough mind space to fit all those revelations in, so he pushes it back for later. This is a bit too much. Dorian has seen some crazy shit at Kerei’s side, but this will need some chewing through. Maybe later.</p><p>‘I will not disband the Inquisition, that’s for sure.’ She says. ‘We need the resources it can provide. We need its name. And the corruption? To hell with corruption. There were always spies in our ranks. The important thing is to keep our heads leveled and not be consumed by greed or hatred. I’m more concerned about Orlais and Ferelden right now, but whatever. I have an idea.’</p><p>‘How are you feeling?’ Dorian asks before he thinks this through. But when he looks up from the numerous clasps of her uniform, he feels a wave of relief. There’s fire in her eyes again. And she smiles. In her feral, predatory smile that he missed so much. Her face is alight again, jaw set, lips curved upwards - as if a great burden was taken off her shoulders. Which is odd, considering…</p><p>‘I’m fucking fantastic.’ She says. ‘Do you know why?’</p><p>‘Not really, but I get a feeling you’ll tell me anyways.’ Dorian can’t help but answer with a smile like hers.</p><p>‘Because I know who I’m up against. And I know him well enough to realize where to strike so that it fucking <em>hurts</em>.’ She lowers her voice and flashes her teeth in a feral grin. ‘Right in his fucking <em>nuts</em>.’</p><p>Dorian can’t help it. He bursts out laughing. Then he hugs her tight, enjoying the fresh smell of her recently washed hair. She’s a marvel, that Dalish elf, she’s a wonder and a force of nature; she’s a puzzle and a mystery, and he loves her so much. She returns the hug with her one good arm.</p><p>‘Go on then.’ He says. ‘Go kick their asses.’</p><p>‘Oh, I intend to.’</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Choice</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Much later, when they are on the road, Dorian approaches Kerei and asks her for a full story. </p><p>She looks… surprisingly good. There’s a spark in her eyes again, she sits up straight, even though her arm must be painful. She insisted on riding on horseback instead of in a carriage, and Josephine finally relented. She ditched the official Inquisition’s uniform in favor of her favorite set for traveling - soft leggings, long tunic, heavy boots and a cloak. The left sleeve is sewn short and Dorian has problems looking at it sometimes. Despite her injury, Kerei lost very little of her natural grace. </p><p>She smiles at him as he rides up to her. </p><p>‘So.’ He says, returning that smile. ‘We’re free of that mess. I’ll see you off part of the way, yes?’ </p><p>‘Appreciated, love.’ She answers easily and turns up her face towards the sun. Dorian allows himself a minute of enjoying the warm light as well before sighing deeply. </p><p>‘Tell me everything, please.’ </p><p>She remains silent for a moment. And then, she starts talking, in a calm, warm voice. </p><p>‘When I passed through the Eluvian, I thought the Qunari are there, waiting to attack. They weren’t, though. They were all turned to stone statues. I heard voices in a distance, Viddasala and someone else, speaking Qunlat. So, of course, I ran there.’ </p><p>She frowns and moves to scratch her left shoulder. For a second, she seems surprised her arm is no longer there, then she curses silently and rests her hand back on the saddle. </p><p>‘I recognized that other voice immediately.’ She continues. ‘It was Solas. And when I caught up to them, he already turned Viddasala to stone. I knew he’s powerful, but that threw me off a bit, to be honest.’ </p><p>‘I bet.’ Dorian says. He stares at her with wide eyes, amazed by her calmness. It’s quite like she feels she’s done her job and looks forward to reaping the fruits of her labor. She’s got something back, something that was missing for a long time. Dorian has no idea what it is, but he has some guesses. </p><p>‘We talked for a bit, and he revealed to me who he is and what his plans are.’ Kerei smiles at Dorian. It’s a carefree, happy smile, better fitting if she would be telling him that she plans on taking a vacation and going to Tevinter with him for a month. ‘He didn’t give me any details, of course, but I believe I got a pretty decent grasp on what he needs…’ she releases a sigh and her smile drops a little. ‘And how to keep it away from him.’ </p><p>‘And who is he?’ Dorian asks, even though he knows. </p><p>‘Solas is Fen’Harel.’ Kerei sounds like she’s about to start a soft, melodic chant. ‘The Dread Wolf of Dalish legends. The Trickster god of mischief, deceit and betrayal.’ </p><p>Dorian forcefully keeps his mouth closed and just nods. </p><p>‘I should have known.’ Kerei sighs. ‘There were tells. I should have paid closer attention. I should have been smarter, I should have realized…’ she shrugs. ‘But I didn’t. Fade was, after all, quite an excuse. And now, I will clean up this mess.’ </p><p>‘Can’t you just go to him and talk him out of whatever he wants to do?’ </p><p>‘If I knew how to find him, I would. And if I thought he can be talked out of his plans, I would.’ </p><p>‘So…’ Dorian sighs. ‘Your boyfriend is Fen’Harel.’ </p><p>‘He was never my boyfriend.’ Kerei corrects him gently. ‘I love him, and he loved me, and that was it…’ </p><p>‘Whatever he was to you, he’s the Dread Wolf! Stuff of legends! You slept with an ancient Elvhen god, Kerei, how can you be so calm about it?’ </p><p>She looks at him and keeps staring for a moment. She’s beautiful in the soft, warm sunlight. The scar that crosses her lip stands out, a reminder of a stupid accident that looks like a battle souvenir. Her hair, for the road gathered back into a ponytail, curl a little on ends, fall on her neck and spill on the shoulder in a charming cascade. Her back is straight and she sways gently with the horse’s step. Her eyes are as green as spring grass, and there’s something soft and caring in her gaze. </p><p>‘He is Solas, love.’ She says softly. ‘Solas who helped me close my first rift, who stuck by me when we closed the Breach for the first time. He’s Solas, who put a blanket on my shoulders as I worked through the night. Solas, who could snap a barrier on me before I even realized we’re in danger. Solas, who painted the rotunda with beautiful murals. I know him, Dorian. He may be Fen’Harel, but he’s Solas. My Solas.’ </p><p>‘You still love him.’ Dorian realizes. </p><p>‘I never stopped.’ </p><p>‘And you will wage war against him.’ </p><p>Kerei’s head drops for the first time in a long while as she releases a long, slightly trembling sigh. She wipes her nose with the back of her hand. </p><p>‘If that is what it takes to save him, then yes.’ She says, and her voice is strong, even though it’s quiet. </p><p>‘And if you have to kill him?’ </p><p>‘Oh, Dorian.’ She throws back her hair and looks at him. There’s sadness in her eyes. Dorian knows she has considered it. She knows what her choice to maintain the Inquisition entails. She knows the odds of her coming to battle with her former lover are maddeningly high. She’s smart and caring and brave and selfless. </p><p>‘I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.’ she says. ‘For now, let’s enjoy this bit of the road we have ahead. And you will hear from me, Dorian.’ </p><p>‘I hope so.’ He forces a light-hearted laugh. ‘I miss you, love. Wish you would come visit me in Tevinter.’ </p><p>‘I know. I wish so as well.’ </p><p>He doesn’t quite believe her. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Sense</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Varric expected Kerei at his estate sooner rather than later and she didn’t disappoint him. She’s brought Dagna the arcanist with her. The dwarf is as chatty and cheerful as usual, but Kerei herself seems a little bit under the weather. They are accompanied by the Bull and his Chargers, and soon the estate is filled with gruff laugh and mercenary songs. Varric loves it - it’s been too quiet recently. </p><p>‘So what can I do for you, Ginger?’ Varric asks after they’re done with the tour of the estate. They settle down in the library, and Varric fishes out his best whiskey from the cabinet. </p><p>‘Two things.’ She answers, casting him a brilliant smile. ‘I need to get in touch with Hawke, and I need someone with a tinkerer’s mind.’ </p><p>‘Oh.’ Varric says after a moment. ‘Well. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to get a hold on Hawke…’ </p><p>‘Do try.’ </p><p>‘I will, I will. The tinkerer should be easier, I will get to it.’ he eyes her cautiously. ‘Will you stay a bit? It seems like you’re just passing through.’ </p><p>‘A few days.’ She agrees easily. ‘If you will have us, of course. I missed you, Varric. Do you have any new stories to tell? A book to write? Cassandra is still waiting for a new volume in her favorite series.’ </p><p>Varric laughs and Kerei smiles a little. She looks… well, if a little tired. The missing arm is a bit odd, but she doesn’t seem to be bothered by it. She doesn’t overcompensate for the loss; her posture is as regal as he remembers it. Even while seated, seemingly relaxed, she has a glow about her, a glow more fitting on a high throne of Orlais. The rich redness of her hair is braided into elaborate mass of plaits, all knotted and twisted together into a bun. The dark lines on her face are soft and pretty in the warm glow of the fireplace. And there is a smile on her face, a tiny curve of the lips Varric kind of knows. </p><p>There’s something different about her, though. When he’s seen her last in Halamshiral she was stiff, cold, sad, detached. There’s a fire in her now, a flicker of flame. And a darkness Varric doesn’t recognize from before. </p><p>‘I’ve been a bit too busy to sit down and write, but there is a story I’d love to tell.’ He says. She looks at him from above the rim of her glass, her eyes sparkling in the firelight. Varric remembers well that fire is her element, and it fits her on so many levels. A cozy fireplace. A burning inferno. </p><p>‘Do elaborate.’ She says. Her voice is like honey and caramel. </p><p>‘The story of a girl and a god that loved her.’ Varric blurts out and waits for her reaction. She takes a slow sip and sets the glass aside. Her eyes never leave his face. ‘But I would never publish it without asking the parties interested first.’ Varric adds cautiously. </p><p>‘So Dorian was in touch, I see.’ Kerei says calmly. Varric feels a grin, appearing on his face. For a moment, they regard each other – there's sympathy, and respect, and a quiet understanding. She is a force to be reckoned with, even despite her unassuming statue. The darkness within reminds Varric of Hawke. </p><p>‘Keep writing it.’ she finally says in a quiet voice. ‘But do me a favor and refrain from publishing it just yet. That story is far from over.’ </p><p>‘You have a plan.’ Varric realizes. Kerei smiles. There’s pride in that smile, pride and calm certainty of purpose; there’s unwavering strength and confidence. That smile could as well belong to a queen, to an empress, to a new, freshly made goddess. She’s stunning, and Varric suddenly understands - the story of a god who fell in love with a mortal <em>makes sense</em>. </p><p>‘I do. Get me Hawke, and get me a tinkerer, and you will see.’ </p>
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